One Gorram Reason
by Peptuck
Summary: She wants a reason why it couldn't work. He has a hundred, but he can't figure out why she believes otherwise. Fluffy River/Jayne, post-BDM. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **A bit of an experiment of mine, as well as my Ur-fic in the Firefly fandom. Let's see where this goes.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Firefly or its characters. Joss, boss, etc.

* * *

**_One Gorram Reason_**

**_Part One_**

He missed having a spotter. 

Jayne Cobb sat up, grabbing a towel after he'd set his weights back on the rack. The sweat stained all his clothes, dripping down from his hair, and it took him a good few minutes to finally stop perspiring. It had been a good workout.

But he still missed having a good spotter.

The burly man rose to his feet, peering around the open cargo bay, cool air drifting in from the open bay doors. The ship was quiet, empty and silent, most of the crew having gone dirtside for recreation and work. Mal and Zoe were lining up a new heist, Doc and Kaylee were out doing who knew whatever lovebird games they played at, and Inara was dealing with another client.

Thinking of Inara and clients made Jayne grin, and he stood up, stretching his oxygenated muscles. He spent a few minutes doing so, getting all kinks out of his body after having spent all that time pumping iron, and threw the towel over his shoulder. Grabbing a water bottle, he strolled into the common area past the bay.

It was boring being left behind to guard Serenity, but Mal had figured no one would be in better shape to protect it than his two meanest fighters. Of course, one was liable to sell the ship off for a couple platinum should the fancy take him (or so Jayne boasted) and the other could end up wiring the ship to blow up if she wasn't dumping soup into the catalyzers. One way or the other, the _gorram_ little girl was going to get them all killed, and having her flying the ship just upped those odds as far as Jayne Cobb was concerned.

As he walked into the common room, he could hear grunting coming from the washroom, by the passenger dorms, and since only one other person was on the ship, it didn't take much learning to figure out who it was. The mercenary considered just walking on past, but then he heard a familiar _hurk_ing sound, and the heavy splash of someone rendering their breakfast and lunch moot points.

"Better there'n on the bridge," Jayne grunted, but figuring it wouldn't be stupid to check on the girl, he lingered outside the washroom until she stumbled back out. He wasn't surprised to see her a bit green around the face, wiping her mouth as she stared down at the floor, her bare feet padding along the bare metal.

"Alright?" Jayne asked, and she mumbled something, looking up at him. He frowned, catching the question in her eyes without her having to speak it. "Well, can't have you flying around if you're gonna be spraying munched-up bits of your brother's cookin' everywhere." He sat down on a chair, propping his feet up. "Don't know much 'bout machines but I know they ain't takin' too well to havin' digestible goop all over 'em."

"Side effects of medication," she replied dully, and wandered toward the infirmary.

"Thought your brother said you didn't need none of that anymore," Jayne replied, and he honestly wished she didn't. Bad enough she was both the pilot _and_ crazy, but being pilot, crazy, _and_ drugged up on some medical whatsit concoction was a recipe for ugliness.

"Keeps input from getting cloudy, filters," River replied, shaking her head and tossing her hair about. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and seemed to steady.

"Well, whatever. Don't be crashin' the ship or nothin'."

"Difficult to do so without being airborne," she replied, and he grunted.

"Talkin' about later," Jayne said, and she moved past him, toward her dorm room, before pausing.

"Quiet," she whispered, and peered around the room. It _was_ quiet down here, Jayne had to admit, and with her brother shacking up with Kaylee half the time, the girl was alone in the dorms. He felt an odd pang of sympathy for her being left down here; he wouldn't want to be separate from everyone else like this either.

"Sympathy doesn't become you," she said, fixing him with her big brown eyes, and he sneered.

"Tossin' your face into the toilet don't make you any prettier either," he replied. She glanced away, her tangly hair obscuring her face. Had to admit, even if he didn't like the crazy little moonbrained girl, she _was_ pretty, and it would take some serious bruisin' to hurt that. Body wasn't too bad either, and she hadn't changed much at all since the first time he'd caught a pleasant eyeful of her figure. Body flexible like that, she could _do_ things . . . .

She snapped her eyes back toward him, giving him a glare that might have been reserved for serial killers and door-to-door salesmen. Without warning, she turned and stomped back toward the washroom. Jayne watched, confused, and she leaned back out of the door, her arm pumping almost too fast to see. Jayne ducked with the practiced ease of someone who was used to taking cover or losing his head, but the object still managed to bop him across his forehead.

"Ow! What the hell are-" he was cut off by the sight of the projectile, laying in his lap, and he looked up in confusion. "You throwin' soap at me?"

The top half of her head poked out of the washroom, glaring at him with the peerlessly hateful intent of a child told they couldn't have any cookies.

"Jayne has a dirty mind," she muttered. He grinned, and thought of a dozen more ways she could use her physical gifts properly, starting with her feet and moving up. River's eyes widened, and she ducked back inside the washroom. The mercenary jumped to his feet and rolled around the chair, just in time to avoid a bottle of sanitizer.

"Gotta work better on that aim, crazy girl!" he yelled. She stepped back out, still angry by Jayne's estimate, and he flopped back down.

"No more suitable munitions," she said, walking past him, and then pausing. "Still has hands. Can deal with dirty Jayne-thoughts the hard way." She looked down between his legs, and he jerked, reflexively putting his hands over his weak spot in a conspicuously unmanly manner.

"Hey, you can throw all the cleanin' nonsense you want at me, but them's off-limits," he warned.

"Continuing antagonism will drastically reduce your chances of bearing offspring," she replied, but her mouth twitched up, and the mercenary relaxed at the smile. She sat down in a chair across from him.

"Don't want no kids anyway," he replied, pointing at her. "No family for me. Too busy, and the prospect of leaving little Cobbs runnin'a 'round every moon we go to isn't a rightsome thought."

"Little Jaynes grow beards by six, start sexin' before out of the crib," she said, smiling, and he laughed, because he'd been thinking the exact same . . . oh, _right_.

"Downright creepifying you get sometimes," he remarked, and looked away. "Seriously, though, no kids for Jayne. Don't want the trouble it brings."

"Then he doesn't mind if I squeeze them?" River asked, and he went rigid.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean! Stop insinuating you're gonna-" He stopped as she burst out laughing, wrapping her arms around herself as she shook. After a second, he managed a chuckle too.

"Easy mark, easy like Simon," she said after overcoming her laughter. "Makes faces like twisty hairy bears."

"Well, I _am_ a bear, but I ain't too hairy," Jayne replied, rubbing his chin. "Need to shave, honest."

"Beard is better," she remarked, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Ya think?" In response, she rose, stepped across the short distance between them, and stuck her hand into his face. her arm was a tiny blur of pale whiteness, and by the time Jayne realized it, she had already grabbed his chin. He reached up and grabbed her wrist, more out of surprise than anything else, and his fingers engulfed her entire hand.

"Fuzzy," she added, unperturbed by his grip. "Rough but nice touch." He released her hand, and she pulled away, smiling. "Hair also hides ugly chin."

"Ugly _what_?" he shouted, hands snapping up, but the girl was already skipping away, laughing and smiling and _gorram_ did she move so _smooth_ly, those legs dancing her across the room like a . . . dancing . . . _dancer_. Right.

"Simon again," she said, her voice oddly sing-song. "Jayne like Simon, Simon like Jayne, both easy marks."

"Glad you're in such a good mood," he muttered, but the grin didn't fade from his face. Her cheery mood was infectious, and being playful meant she wasn't crazy and cutting him with a btucher's knife or anything.

And like that, the good cheer vanished, River coming to a complete halt and her face shifted from smiles and brightness to pensiveness in the blink of an eye.

"Apologies." Her tone matched her face, low and quietly pleading. He frowned, and then remembered her knifing him back around Ariel. What a pile of _go se _that ended up.

"Nothin'," he replied. "Weren't you doin' the cuttin' on me anyway. Bat-brains an' all."

"Wasn't thinking clearly," she said, stepping back toward him, her gait now that of an uncertain child. "Saw the blue on your shirt, had to make it red." She reached down and poked a finger into his chest. "Red inside. Quickest way to make it red was with a blade to the fleshbag."

"Fleshbag?" he echoed. "Ain't the most flatterin' term."

"Bloodsack, meatbag, hamholder, skinseal-"

"_Stop_ it." Gettin' creepifyin' again. "Look, I get it. You weren't thinkin' straight when you took the knife to me. I understand." He paused, and nodded. "So, there. Better?" He hoped so, and she managed a smile.

"Better," she answered, and then her face twisted up into that thoughtful expression she had, as Jayne remembered other times she'd used blades. "You like it more when she's cutting _other_ people." He smiled.

"Damn right, crazy," he replied. "You cuttin' up them Reavers was one of those things I'm never gonna . . . ." he stopped as her expression shifted again. _Gorram_ it, this girl didn't stay one way more than a heartbeat. Now she was looking away, probably not wanting to remember the Reavers she'd been forced to kill. But that thought of her standing in that doorway, blood dripping off her weapons, hair mussed up, chest heaving, eyes wide, piles of dead monsters all around her . . . .

It had been one of the most _beautiful_ sights he'd ever seen.

Too bad it was this stupid, crazy, moon-brained girl who did it all. Otherwise by now he would have already . . . .

She looked back at him, her cheeks flushing, and Jayne realized he needed to stop thinking like that, about _her_. _Gorram_, she had a nice body, but she was a _kid_ and the last person he'd ever want to . . . . Mal would space him, her brother would invent something with that doctorin' brain of his, and the girl would rip him apart with a pinky if he laid a wrong hand on her.

"Can't apply enough force with one finger," she said, her cheeks still flushing. It was Jayne's turn to look away, which he did by standing and stepping away from her.

"Gorram, girl, got my pecker runnin' off in the wrong directions," he snarled. No. Couldn't think of the damn girl that way. Even though he'd thought the same way about Zoe, Kaylee, Inara - especially Inara.

She looked up at him, not sure what to say, and he finally waved his hands in the air before walking back out of the common room, before she could get him thinking things he shouldn't and didn't really _want _to be thinking.

* * *

Mal and Zoe came back later that day to find Jayne relentlessly exercising in the cargo hold. He only gave them a grunt of agreement when they mentioned they had a lucrative job; only Zoe noticed his relative lack of enthusiasm at the prospect of piles of cash for an easy run. 

Once Simon and Kaylee had returned and Inara docked, the crew readied the ship to lift. No one really noticed that Jayne went out of his way to avoid seeing River again, going so far as to "wander" out of the cargo bay when she wandered out onto the catwalk overhead.

At dinnertime, he avoided looking at her as he tore away at his meal. The meal was interspersed with the usual joke-telling and story-recounting, but mixed in were comments that Jayne was eating fast, even for _his_ usual lack of table manners. His only reply was some off-hand response about all the exercise making him hungry. Once again, no one seemed to note that the only times he looked up, he would cast quick glares River's way. For her part, the pilot only picked at her food, giving Jayne the occasional look while he was eating.

Once he'd taken care of dishes - cleaning them in record time - the mercenary announced he was heading for his bunk, and did so with all haste.

He tried sleeping, and after about an hour's worth of fitful turning and twisting, he finally managed to calm down enough to get into a light doze. The doze didn't last long, and he found himself staring at a ceiling he didn't like and wished he could punch. Cleaning his guns didn't help ease the tension he felt, either, nor did sharpening his knives.

Wasn't right for him to be thinkin' about her like this. Sure, she was tough, and had some serious guts taking on a horde of rape-happy skin-eating space pirates with her bare hands. But she wasn't for him to be focusing on. Just a _gorram_ little kid.

He finally clambered back up his ladder and wandered out into the mess, grabbing one of his bottles of whiskey. He opened it, sniffed, and then, after a long moment's consideration, capped it. He wanted a clear head, for once. Best way to clear his head was a nice walk around the ship and finding stuff to do.

The cargo bay was open and dark, fitting his thoughts. He lingered there for a bit, doing the occasional pull-up or weight set, followed by checking the weapons lockers and cargo.

_Gorram_ it, not having the Shepard here to spot for him was disconcerting. Four months after he'd gone on, it still bothered Jayne Cobb.

Once he ran out of make-work to do, Jayne wandered down past the infirmary, toward the passenger dorms, as the washroom down there was closer than the toilet in his bunk, and he needed to empty himself.

-

_sand in her toes, surf roaring, laughter and gulls calling on the shores of Osiris_

She smiled as he spoke a question, her brother looking off into the seas. Didn't need to hear the question, as she knew what he was saying before he spoke it. She opened her mouth to reply-

_neEDles knives b**link**ing lights **scalpel** raised cold **steel on wrists** and aNkles naKEd pro**bi**ng_

_**such good work**_

She sat up, breaking the illusion, banishing it with gasps of shock and twists and turning and warmth

_serenity_

Ragged breaths escaped aching lungs. She trembled despite the heat wrapping around her.

River. Her name was River and she was _home_. Not there, not in _that place_.

_Proof. _She needed to remind herself where she was. Fingers reached out, touching walls and floor, sliding over the familiar tactile textures of the vessel. Her breathing slowed as she touched the thrum of the ship, her ship, the reassuring whispers of Serenity.

Anything to keep her mind off the date, the place, the good work starting when she was fourteen.

Sweat was in the air, the presence of dark thoughts, a billowing mass that was tinged with relief and exertion. _Jayne_. He was about.

The darkness in his mind was her fault, and she needed to fix it. And maybe he could distract her, get her away from-

No, no thinking about it. Just _find_ Jayne and trade barbs.

She rose, fingers on the plastic of her sliding door, and bare feet sliding and padding over the metal and carpet.

-

Damn, it felt good to cut loose. Jayne kicked the toilet back into its little alcove int he washroom, and zipped up as it flushed on its own. With a contented sigh, he stepped outside, rounded the infirmary, and ran headlong into River.

The impact sent the girl, a third his musclebound weight, stumbling backwards, but she regained her balance by the time Jayne's hand snapped out to catch her. She let her hand get caught by his meaty fingers again though, and offered a smile as she steadied herself.

"_Shit_, girl, sneakin' around like that," he muttered.

"Heard you building muscle," she replied. "Wanted to apologize again."

"I was trying to be quiet," he muttered, and she shook her head.

"Didn't hear you. _Heard_ you." Jayne caught the emphasis, and frowned again.

"Can't go anywhere without you pokin' around in my head, huh?" he asked, and then his mind caught up with her words. "Apologize for what?"

"For making your pecker uncomfortable," she replied. His mouth dropped slightly at her use of the word, which didn't seem to make any sense coming off of _her_ lips.

"Naw, that ain't your fault," he said quickly, hating to see that look on her face. "Its me that's got the bad thoughts goin' at you."

"Not bad thoughts," she said, pouting thoughtfully, and started wandering back past the infirmary, toward the couches. "Just dirty Jayne thoughts."

"Ain't none better," he replied with a grin, following her. "Anyway, I'm bettin' I was the one who upset you, and I don't want you knifin' me in my sleep or anythin', so I figured I'd clear the air."

"Wasn't going to knife you," she said, sitting down, and then that mischievous smile she'd worn earlier appeared. "Had soup warming up, though."

"I just went into the mess, ain't no sou- _oh_." He jabbed a finger at her. "Put soup in my hair I'll think so many dirty thoughts you'll be pourin' bleach in your ears!" She stuck out her tongue at him, and his counter was to cross his arms, stare directly at her, and consider what she could _do_ with said tongue.

Her face quickly came to resemble a strawberry at that.

"Finally, I got a way to beat you at that mind readin' game," he said with a triumphant grin, and she giggled. That noise sounded . . . _nice_, after seeing her all petulant-like.

"Jayne likes his dirty thoughts," she added after she'd stopped laughing and he shrugged.

"Dirty thoughts, guns, and winnin'. That's Jayne. Surprised little genius like you ain't got that by now."

"Mountains turned to anthills," she mused. "Thinks he's a hero but when times roll, he makes complex things too simple to recognize."

"Huh?"

"Stop degrading yourself," she said, bluntly and direct, frowning.

"Ain't doin' none of that, girl," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Then why do you keep thinking that you don't want me?" she replied. The question was innocent, direct, and so childlike that it took the burly mercenary several seconds to catch the meaning.

"Honesty," she said, standing, while his face still resembled a mounted fish. "You spent the whole night unable to sleep because you want to _sex_ me, but you don't _want_ to sex me." Jayne's eyes did a passable imitation of dinner plates, and he held up his hands.

"Shush up!" he growled. "Anyone hears you, Mal's gonna chuck my privates out the airlock!"

"No big secret," she replied. "Crawled out of the box naked, everyone who wanted an eyeful got it." She smiled. "You _really_ wanted the eyeful."

"Well, uh," he replied, considering what to respond with, but then realizing it didn't matter what he said. Finally, he settled on the blunt truth. "At least it was a _nice_ eyeful." Her smile expanded at the compliment.

"And you want more than an eyeful?" she added, to which he took an immediate, distinct and very, very cautious step backward.

"Whoa, now! Want and _want_ are two completely different things, moonbrain!" he growled. "Wouldn't mind snaggin' some from Kaylee, or Inara, or Zoe, but don't see me thinkin' I should, or would if I could! 'Specially not _you_, crazy!"

He expected her to be upset. It was as blunt a rejection as he could manage without saying it outright. And half of him wasn't even sure _why_ she was bringing it up like this. River never cared about him, _ever_, and he'd only given _her_ the same ordinary masculine thoughts most men gave most women and vice versa. Maybe bein' a reader made things different, and he had to admit that there was a lot more sexy to her after she'd kicked the shit out of him _twice_ and ripped up a jillion Reavers without a scratch but _dammit_ Jayne Cobb wasn't gonna to do _anything_ with this _stupid, genius crazy reader girl!_

End. Of. Discussion.

"You get all that?" he snarled, and she nodded.

"Lots of words. Lots of thoughts. Lots of emotions." She cocked her head to the side.

"Not one _gorram _good reason not to, though."

He scowled, shaking his head, and turned around, crossing his arms and refusing to budge like any real, proper man did when confronted by this sort of thing.

"Ain't happenin', crazy." He was resolute in his refusal. He looked back at her, his scowl still as intensely Jayne-like as ever. "And why . . . why you pressin' this anyway?"

"Have my reasons," she replied, sitting down. "Agreement?"

"'Bout what?" Jayne asked, turning back toward her.

"Give me one _gorram_ reason why your brain doesn't want me," she replied. "And I tell you why I'm pressing it."

The machinery whirled in Jayne's mind, and he nodded, straightening his shoulders.

"You want reasons why I ain't _ever_ gonna sex you, darlin'?" he asked, and grinned tightly. "Gotta _shipload_ of 'em."

And he'd damn well get to the bottom of this probin' of his pecker, too. Gonna be an interestin' and awful truthsome night.

* * *

-

* * *

**AN:** First part of a three-part series. Expect _much_ more development next chapter as River and Jayne keep locking horns.

Personally, I find the River/Jayne pairing to be interesting, mostly for other peoples' take on it. Its difficult, not supported in canon very much, and their personalities so violently conflict that it seems impossible. So, as a bit of an experiment, I decided to try and write a Rayne fic that fit River and Jayne's personalities, but I'm opting to take things in a slightly different angle than what most Rayne fics tend to go. Precisely what that angle is going to be, however, is soemthing you'll have to find out next chapter.

Until next chapter . . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**_AN:_** This part is rated **M** for sexual imagery toward the end.

_**Part Two**_

The flustered look on his face was so un-Jayne, and that was reflected in his mind. The pages - _big, bold, messy __**ink**_- were slowly flipping as she poked and prodded.

As long as she kept him busy, and he kept _her_ mind busy, she wouldn't need to go back there, to that _place_.

-

"And?"

Jayne's grin faltered.

"Uh?"

"You have a shipload of reasons why you'd never sex me." Her voice was calm, even, curious. "Go down the list."

He paused, frowning, actually trying to dig up one of the reasons he _knew_ he had, and she smiled.

"Jayne's brain isn't as organized as his gun rack," she remarked, and he grunted.

"Okay, fine, crazy, I'll start off with the obvious one." He grinned and pointed at her, as if he'd already won. "I don't _like_ you."

There was a long moment of silence, before River laid back in her chair, rolling her eyes and sighing.

"Givin' up already?" he asked, and she turned her head back toward him, narrowing her eyes. The girl stood up, pursing her lips, and then shook her head.

"Best hand you've got, fold," she mused, and started walking around him. Jayne turned slowly, not liking the idea of her circlin' him. Reminded him of stories of huntin' cats and the like. And the way those legs of hers moved she _did_ seem like a cat . . . .

"Shooting down your own point before I even start," she added. "Better aim with your gun than your brain."

"What are you talkin' at?" Jayne asked as she came back around in front of him.

"Jayne _already_ likes me," she replied, stopping before him, and then took a step closer. Her hand rose up and touched his chin, and her eyes probed his features as her fingers brushed his beard again. "Already said so before he even started playing the game." He was about to protest when her eyes suddenly focused, brown orbs boring into his own face for a single intense second.

-

_She saw Dobson. She smiled, holding the knife in her hand, imagined how best to cut his face up to pay him back for what he did to Kaylee. She remembered the form crawling out of the box, the girl, naked and screaming and wide-eyed with terror._

-

"Its a girl," she said, her voice distant, but the gentle, soft words were tinged with a bit of an imitation of his own gruff accent. "She's cute, too. Don't think she's all there, though. 'Course, not all of her has to be." Her eyes shifted, and she gave him a knowing look, even as Jayne took a step back, mouth working in surprise and confusion.

He remembered them words plain as day.

"Girl, you are gettin' more and more creepifyin' by the second," Jayne finally said. "How didja-"

"Looked for thoughts tied to his pecker," she replied, and walked back toward the chair. "Little threads in the brain, leading wandering eyes through glass houses." Her words sent a shiver up his spine. Girl was a _gorram twig_ compared to him and had somehow taken complete control of this in a few sentences.

"Okay, okay, fine," he said. "I'll admit it, you got a nice ass. Little small in the frontal department, skinny as you are, though." His hand waved in front of his chest, indicating what he meant.

"Better reason?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. He paused, thinking, and looked back to her.

"Quit lookin' in my head, ain't makin' this fair." She murmured something indignant, and looked away, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jayne took a good long minute to think about all the reasons why it didn't work, and it _couldn't_ work, and finally, he scratched his chin, straightened his shoulders, and stared right at her. When River's eyes drifted back toward him, he frowned.

_"Ariel."_

-

She remembered. She knew, even before her brother had. Suspected it even before Jayne had. She'd tasted his greed, rotten and rancid, hanging about him like stale milk.

_But one page wasn't a whole book._

-

Once again, there was silence, though now it was heavy.

"Probably figured it out already," he muttered. "Know your brother has, and hell, you said you'd kill me with your brain about it, but gotta take that into consideration." He paused. "I sold you out, girl. Gave you to the feds for nothin' but cash."

She stared at him, her expression betraying nothing, blank eyes waiting for him to continue, and somehow that was aggravating him more.

"Come on, stupid little genius moon-brained . . . ." he said, waving his hands in the air as he paced around. He stopped, looking at her, and shook his head. "I _betrayed_ you! I turned you over to the feds! Treachery, treason, backstabbing. Got a million words for it, an' all of 'em's true for what I did!"

She kept staring, waiting for something, and he sat down in a chair, growling.

"Don't that mean nothin' to you?" he asked, and her mouth slowly closed. Once again, she stood, crossing the little room and standing over him. Her movements were different from before. There was no grace here - beyond her usual surety of footing. Instead, it was hesitant, observant, her head shifting back and forth as if looking at Jayne from multiple angles.

She leaned over as she stood before him, her hair hanging down and their eyes meeting.

"It means something to _you_, doesn't it?" she asked, and he blinked. "Jayne who sells out people he isn't friends with isn't the same Jayne sitting here."

Those eyes focused like laser bolts, and he leaned back into the chair. _Gorram_ it, she was doing it again-

-

_She saw the airlock, heard the rushing wind, held the radio in her hands, and remembered his worst moment, the moment he'd broken._

_"Turn on any of my crew, you turn on me!"_

-

"What are you gonna tell the others?" she asked, her eyes turning away, looking over his shoulder. Her voice's pitch changed a hair, accent sliding away toward an eerie similarity of Mal's.

"About what?" Her voice lowered, back to that imitation of Jayne's own. "About why I'm dead." Back to Mal's. "I hadn't thought about it." Her eyes turned, focusing directly on Jayne's once more.

"Make somethin' up. Don't tell 'em what I did."

Jayne was silent as she straightened, and looked down at him. After a second, River turned away, one arm rising up to rub the other.

"Shows shame, shows honesty, shows he knows he was wrong," she whispered, and then turned back toward him, smiling. "Shows he's a better man than he thinks he is."

"I . . . got stupid." Jayne muttered, looking down. "Money was too good."

"I know," she replied, and turned her head to the side, questioningly.

"Better reason?"

Jayne mulled over it for a bit, and sighed.

"I wanted you gone, girl," he said. "Hell, tried to get you off the ship myself after Beaumonte until you kicked me in the brain. Nothin' but trouble."

"Always trouble," she agreed, nodding. "But you were scared."

"No!" Jayne said, sitting up, reaffirming his masculine pride. "No, not like that at all."

"Didn't want the happy sack crushed again," she added. "Scared of her, scared of the Alliance. Scared of the Reavers, but not afraid to let everyone know."

"Reavers is different," he replied, shaking his head. "Not like . . . . like you."

Silence, and then he shook his head again.

"Stupid reason anyway. But got a better one now: Mal would kill me, if your brother didn't beat me to it." She smiled.

"Grown-up," she replied. "Eighteen last month. Simon can't say anything about it."

"Don't change fact that Captain and your brother would skin me alive, takin' advantage of you like that," he said, and fervently wished he had his bottle of whiskey.

"Simon's a boob, Mal is stupid," she replied, that smile of her never faltering. "I'm not a child anymore."

"Ain't right," he said quietly. "Ain't the right man to take advantage of you."

"Why?" she asked, and he paused.

"My gut."

"Not true," she replied, and her eyes narrowed again.

-

_She sat on the catwalk, looking over the empty bay, despondent and confused, remembering the boy and the shotgun blast that should have taken her in her worthless thieving, backstabbing heart._

-

"Shame and confusion," she whispered. "Mudders thought you were a hero, and when they bled for you, you felt wrong."

"I-" Jayne stopped, his face screwing up as he remembered his own feelings after that kid had saved his life.

"The man you think you are wouldn't think that," she added. He was about to stand, but then River put a hand on his chest. He looked up, met her eyes again, and saw a difference in her stance, her approach, and her demeanor.

Somewhere in there, Jayne realized, they'd stopped talking about simple sexin'.

"Better man than he considers himself," she said. "Like Mal. Tries to act like a big, tough bad man, but bad men don't respect the dead. Bad men don't send money home to the family. Bad men don't do what's right instead of what's smart. Bad men don't know shame when they do bad things." She leaned down again, her eyes low and wandering over his shoulders and neck, before rising back to meet his. "Bad men don't see other men jump in the way of a bullet, and hate themselves for it. Jayne is all of this."

There was a long moment of silence, tension in the air, two people hovering apart, not certain what the other was all about.

Jayne broke the silence.

"Outta reasons," he muttered. The single most crushing defeat he'd ever suffered in his whole life, felt like. After a second, he managed a weak smile.

"So, darlin', even though I lost, you wanna tell me why you're so interested in this sort of thinkin'?"

-

She couldn't tell him. Not with words he'd understand.

Tactile sensations to override neural synapses of accumulated experiences. No filter in her mind, so take advantage of that.

_she feels everything. she can't __**not**_

Jayne Cobb wasn't good with words. She gave him actions instead.

-

She came forward, onto the couch, putting her knees on either side of his legs, her body close and warm and tight with his. Her hands rested on his shoulders as she set her weight on his lap, their hips meeting in a way he'd though about from time to time but _wo de ma _he'd never considered. Jayne's heartbeat picked up, his face inches from hers, his hands uncertain for once as to what they were supposed to be doing. Any other woman and he would have already had them exploring, but some part of his brain kept them off that girl's slender wisp of a body.

"Huh," he managed. A fragrance tickled his nose, like strawberries or apples or some other fruit his brain didn't have enough blood to identify. Everything was flowing downstairs.

And then she _did_ put that tongue to use. Right where his neck met his jaw, and conscious thought vanished for several seconds as that curious little mouth went to work on him. The wet warmth finally got his hand moving, and they rose up, Jayne grabbing two armfuls of crazy little girl and pulling her tight. He began to kiss back, at the base of her own jaw, and within seconds they were in each other's faces, tight and intense and wet and River was-

Wo de ma _Jayne Cobb you are sucking face with the doc's eighteen-year-old sister in full daylight, relatively._

Jayne broke free, leaning his head back, and she looked at him with a confused and frightened face, as if she was afraid she'd done something wrong, and that nearly broke his rock-hard throat-slittin' money-grubbin' mercenary heart.

"Ordinarily," he breathed. "Girl treatin' me like this wouldn't get a second's thought before we got rollin', but-"

"Afraid to make a scene," she whispered. That, and the way she suddenly threw herself at him, it just-

"Darlin', I don't _get_ it," he said, shaking his head. "Why are you acting so hungry for lovin' all a sudden, and from _me_? Maybe the Captain, but Jayne Cobb _ain't_ the man you want. Just showed that _I_ ain't got a good reason _not_ to, but there ain't no good reason _you'd_ want me to-"

"Shh," she said, putting a finger over his lips, and she closed her eyes. Her head canted forward, her forehead touching his, and everything about her seemed to change, as if she was a completely different person all of a sudden. Tiny, vulnerable . . . _scared_.

"Wants to see why," she murmurs. "Can't see why. Own mind is a prison she can't claw her way out of."

This close, he saw one of the scars.

It was almost invisible, in her scalp, nestled inside her hair, and _gorram_ it that one little mark on her head was all he needed to understand _everything_, even if she didn't tell him. It was a single rush of understanding clocking him on the side of the head and he was a moron for not having seen it beforehand. A perfectly damn good reason a girl like her would get so hungry.

She sniffed, and her saw the wetness rolling down from her eyes.

It wasn't lust, sexual hunger or any kind of base desire on her part. It was a need for something to wash it all away-

"Tomorrow was the first day, fours years ago" she said, her voice as clear and lucid and normal as he'd ever heard it. "Fourteen years old, and they took me inside." That wetness in her eyes intensified, and he realized that the more she thought about it the worse it would become. His hands gripped her shoulders more tightly, but-

"They were doing _such good work_," she said, and she shook, tears starting to emerge. "All their knives and saws and scalpels, all to help make a world without sin. And she didn't come out until Simon found her, and pulled the _needles_ and the _pain_ and the _cutting_ away and-"

"Shh," Jayne said, closing his eyes and pulling her tight. Heartless bastard he was, he _understood_. Hell, he understood all too well why she'd started this. The Doc said they'd cut out the bits in her brain that kept her mind under control, and she couldn't think straight, or keep _anything_ under control.

Only way to stop the pain was to drown it out.

"Bad memories," he muttered, and she nodded, the skin of her forehead rubbing up and down against his.

"Doesn't want to see that place again, but she knows what day it is. Can't unsee it."

Jayne thought on that for a good long while, mulling over whether he should do what she was asking him to with those tears and those sobs, and he nodded inside.

"Girl," he whispered. "You sure this is how you wanna forget it?" He inhaled. "How you want _me_ to make you forget?" Jayne was scared.

Honest to all, he was _scared_ that she had come to him for this. All the other times, it was something else. No girl ever came to _him_ for something so honest and important.

She opened her eyes, and there was pain in them, pleading that even Jayne Cobb could see plain as day, and he had his answer.

"My bunk's too far away," he said, and he looked back, toward the room she kept.

"Simon's with Kaylee," she squeaked into his ear. His cheeks were now wet from the painful sobs, which he swore cut as deep into his hardened shell as they did her soft skin. "All quiet. All safe."

Jayne swept the bundle of broken little girl up into his arms and carried her down the hallway, shaking in his hands. Anger rolled off him at the people who did this to her, something he _knew_ wasn't right. Jayne didn't consider himself a _good_ man by any stretch of sanity, but he knew what was right and what was wrong, and this girl's treatment at the hands of those bastards was _wrong_. It was okay to kill a man, or cut him up if he was bad and knew something that needed out, or if he'd hurt someone like her. Like that sadistic sumbitch Dobson deserved, like those feds deserved, like all the _gorram_ Alliance deserved for hurting her.

The door slid open, and then it slid closed, and he lowered her down on the bed. Every step of the way, he asked her that question, wanting to know if she was sure of it, and her eyes and her mouth said yes without even speaking any words. Never before had it mattered to him this much that she would _want_ it, because this wasn't about him, or just hunger and lust. He told her it would hurt, and she said she didn't care by kissing him back, pulling him tight as he pulled off her nightie. His shirt fell to the floor, and her little fingers worked his pants as he moved up and down her body with his mouth and tongue, steady and careful. She needed him to take his time, to draw it out, to drown it all.

Time passed, and the sobs had long since faded, replaced by quiet gasps. The tears dried, replaced by sweat. The pain soon passed on, both physical and mental, replaced by a glow and a softness and a contentment that washed away the cold, the metal, and the madness.

Then she shook, and she moaned, and he held her tight. He didn't let her slip back to that place, and kept her there, with him, safe and warm.

-

"Couldn't sleep," she said a while later. His arms folded around her little body, holding her close, her head beneath his chin and face nuzzled in his chest. "Remembered. First day they took me there, after all the lies. Never got to dance except for songs with pain and guns." She wasn't crying, and she wasn't hurting anymore. Her voice told volumes. Even the agony of her past couldn't break through now.

"Came lookin' for me?" Jayne asked, and her head moved a tiny bit, the closest she could to a nod while being held so tightly. His fingers were aimlessly moving through that curly black tangle of hair, made ten times worse after they'd got done.

"Didn't want to remember," she said. "Jayne wanted her, but he didn't _want_ her, so she had to play games with him to make him understand."

"You coulda just asked me," he muttered, but she shook her head.

"Jayne wouldn't." Her voice was just a tiny buzz now. "Jayne thought he didn't like her, buried himself under piles of lies and bluster. Had to break him out." He smiled.

"You did, moonbrain," he said. "You did that a damn sight well better'n I ever 'magined you could." Her body shook with quiet laughter, and he nuzzled her on the top of her head, a sentimental gesture that dashed any hope of him being the big bad burly mercenary he wished he was.

They laid there for a while, and he began to wonder what time it was, and whether anyone else would be getting up. He started to rise, thinking the girl asleep, but her hands tightened around his body, little fingers with terrible strength.

"Not yet," she murmured into his chest. "Keep the demons away a little longer. Safe here." He hesitated, and then pulled her back close.

"Right then, you little moonb-" He stopped. _No._ Couldn't call her that.

". . . . _River_."

* * *

-

* * *

**AN:** I was planning on waiting a few days after my posting of the first chapter, but I'm an impatient bugger, and I wrote this whole story out ahead of time. Third part will go up soon.

As you probably noticed in this chapter - I was beating you over the head with it, I suspect - the pairing here is _not_ sparked by sexuality, but by an even more basic need: human comfort. I tried to portray Jayne as close to the canonical character as I could while using his sympathetic characteristics to build up to the moment where River reveals her reason. I hope I got it done right!

I think formatting plays a big role in helping to define River's personality, which is why I had all the bits where she was looking into his mind or thinking centered. Normally, I use line breaks to split up sections of narrative, but I didn't want to ruin the feeling of intimacy and closeness that was in this chapter with something so jarring, so I used centered dashes.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Part Three**_

"River?"

Her eyes opened at the familiar, comforting voice, and she stretched languidly beneath the blankets. They were smooth, soft, and still wet.

Empty, too. Jayne had left sometime in the night, and for good reason. If Simon found them curled up like that . . . .

"Simon?" she called, sitting up as he stepped into the room. He paused, a tray of food in his hand, but quickly recovered, not expecting to see his sister naked under the blankets. But since he was a doctor and her brother, her being naked in his presence didn't bother him much at all. He just averted his eyes until she'd pulled on her nightie.

"You slept straight through breakfast," he admonished, and she laughed. "Can't be having a lazy pilot. The captain said as much."

"Serenity is fine," River replied, and her hand slid along the smooth wall beside her bed. "Purrs like a kitten." _Like Jayne after she bit him._

"Kaylee said the same," he replied. River took a bite of her protein breakfast, and then started scarfing it down as her stomach reminded her how hungry she actually was. _Last night used up a lot of calories_. Simon watched her, her smile never wavering as she dug in.

"Mei mei, you alright?" he asked, and the pages in his mind flipped, showing curiosity. At her questioning glance, he gave her a slight smile, tinged with honesty. "You've been smiling the whole time since I came in here." In response, her own grin widened.

"Happy," she admitted. Couldn't tell him why, but didn't need to lie either. "You and Kaylee. Big brother found someone to keep him safe." He chuckled, nodding, and she looked past, seeing the concern in his mind. He knew what today was, had been dreading it.

"I'm all right," she said, and reached up, putting a hand to his face, wartmh flowing up her fingers. He wasn't certain, and doubt flickered through his mind.

"Do you," he began, not sure if he should bring it up, but she put a finger on his lips.

"I know, Simon," she said, closing her eyes and thinking of last night. "Over. Gone. Air through the engine."

"You're sure?" he said, and the hope in his voice made her spirits rise up even more than they had been before.

"Can't leave it behind," she replied, struggling to hold on to that moment of clarity and happiness while she thought of her past, and what she'd gone through. Jayne hadn't erased it, but what he'd done for her . . . .

"_Can_ try to forget," she added, and he nodded, understanding her meaning.

"Well, I was just bringing you breakfast and letting you know that the Captain wanted you up as soon as possible," he finished, and the cheer that rolled off him was genuine, pleasant, and rebounded off her own mind. River leaned forward, grabbed her brother and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Simon," she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek.

Simon left a few minutes later, and after she finished eating breakfast, the pilot got dressed, pulling one of Wash's old tropical shirts over her dress. Zoe always smiled when she saw her wearing his outfits, as if she carried him with her into the cockpit.

Kaylee was up in the mess, helping Simon clean up, and the bright-eyed engineer waved from inside the kitchen, sunshine pouring from her eternal like a star.

"You're all smiles today, aren't you?' she said, moving around the counter to walk with River up the passage.

"Good night," she replied, and Kaylee cocked her head to the side, a gesture she'd gotten from River herself. Curiosity rang off her head like a gong.

"Good sleep," she clarified. "No nightmares for once."

"Was it Doctor Tam's medication that cleared yer head?" the engineer asked, and River's smile widened.

"Don't know," she replied enigmatically, and by that time they'd reached the end o the crew corridor. Kaylee saw River off and hurried back to where Simon was still busy.

Mal sat in the pilot's chair, and spun around as River walked onto the bridge, her bare feet ever silent except when she wanted to make noise, which she did. His thoughts were dark, as usual, and while he was probably planning to chew her out when he came around, his thoughts died a sudden, screaming death as he saw her face.

"You're the picture of sunshine, little Albatross," he remarked, honest surprise gleaming on the pages of his brain. "Sure you're not Kaylee underneath some of Inara's cunning makeup?"

"One hundred percent moonbrain, Mal," she replied, and he stood up, gesturing toward the pilot's chair.

"Well, use those brains and moons in your head to keep us from crashing, would you?" he asked, and she sat down.

"Hard to crash surrounded by just vacuum," she remarked, and he chuckled. "You're in a good mood too, aren't you?"

"Getting paid five hundred percent market price to run hot cakes," Mal replied. "Those things are selling like bobbly-headed geisha dolls, you know? People love those things."

"Your course is fallacious," River said as she looked over the nav charts. "This route gives us seventeen extra hours flight time."

"It . . . wha huh?" Mal leaned over her shoulder as she changed their course.

"This is why I fly, and you shoot, captain," she added, smiling up at him, and he sighed, seeing the math play out on the screen before him.

"Can't fly straight if you sleep all day," he grunted, and turned away. "Let me know if anything funny happens."

"Such as?"

"Unicorns popping out of the black with ribbons and candy," he said, as an example, strolling out of the cockpit and leaving River alone, giggling at that mental image.

* * *

"Things around here seem a bit odd to you?" Zoe asked as she and Inara walked along the cargo bay catwalks. 

"Now that you mention it, the ship does seem a bit livelier," the Companion replied, thinking. "Its not just because of Simon and Kaylee though. there's something else, like . . . ." She paused as both herself and Zoe moved to one side, seeing Jayne's burly form rumbling toward them, a towel around his neck.

"Mornin', ladies," Jayne Cobb said with a sod as he moved past them, and both women froze in shock. He continued on, oblivious to their stares.

"That may be part of it," Zoe remarked. "Jayne's been a whole lot looser this morning."

"'Loose' isn't the word to describe it," Inara replied, frowning. "More like . . . _civil_."

"'Jayne' and 'civil' don't mix, not without 'authorities' in there," Zoe replied, shaking her head. "Things are getting strange on this boat." They continued on up the stairs toward the mess.

"Aren't we smuggling pancakes now?"

"We _are_."

Jayne heard 'em talking, but he didn't care. After what he did last night, what that little moonbrained kid showed him about himself and how he felt after helpin' her help herself . . . .

He paused, setting his towel down as he hefted his weights. Mal had given the Shepard as best a funeral as he could back at Haven, and brought Book's Bible back on board as a reminder of their loss.

He hadn't noticed it went missing from the mess, and once everyone was gone, Jayne Cobb reached into his pocket, taking it out. He peered over the pages, and though he wasn't much good with the words, he knew what it meant.

_Gorram_ little girl had his mind bent up and out of shape, and he _liked_ it.

She was right. He wasn't the same man. Things had changed him. What they'd done last night had changed him.

Jayne put the book back in his pocket, figuring he would give it a poke-through one day or another, maybe find out why the Shepard had liked it so much. Least he could do to honor a friend's passing. Jayne lay back and reached up, grasping the weight bar and doing his usual.

He went through two reps before he felt another presence in the bay. Raising his arms to full length, Jayne looked up, and a slender shadow wreathed in one of Wash's colorful shirts loomed over him.

"Mornin', crazy," he said with a tight grin, and set the bar back, sitting up. The look on her face, that smile, content and happy, set something off in his own heart, and he laughed for no reason.

"Thank you," she offered, and he nodded.

"Welcome to it," he replied. He looked down at the grate, and his tone lowered. "Ever have nightmares or fears again, come get me. I'm no doctor, but I . . . I'll do what I can, okay?" He spoke quietly but firmly, a tone he rarely shared except in those moments where he was his most serious. And she understood his intentions.

"Not just sexin'," she whispered, and he nodded.

"Need me to help you through _anything_, I'll be here for you, girl," he said. She nodded, her smile never faltering. The mercenary looked over her face, and then reached up, moving a bit of hair out of the girl's eyes. His thumb lingered where he'd first seen her surgical scars.

_Gorram_ it, he didn't know why he'd treated her so wrong. 'Till he'd held her, seen her cry up close, looked at those cuts and _known_, he'd been almost as bad. He'd make it up to her, though. What happened last night was just part of helpin' this girl heal up like she should.

Her own probing little fingers reached out in response, feeling over his face, her features shifting to curious and thoughtful.

"Didn't you do enough feelin' on my manly features earlier?" he asked, and she laughed, her voice like ringing glass beads or some other imagery he couldn't properly place.

"Fingers give different sensations than tongues," she replied, and he couldn't disagree with that. After a few seconds, Jayne pulled his hand back, becoming self-conscious. Doc would have a fit if he saw this, so he grasped the weight bar again and raised it before his manly image could be further compromised.

"Weight conditioning without a spotter is risky," she remarked, walking around and standing at his head.

"Think you can handle the weight, little girl?" he asked, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed, honest and clear enough for the both of them.

She made a good spotter.

* * *

-

* * *

**AN:** Well, that's the end of that story. The final part isn't as long as the others, as its mostly just a follow-up to cap the story. I wonder if I made Jayne too "jolly" this chapter, but I do remember how he and Book get along really well in the series, so I tried to reflect that in this, along with what River did for him the previous chapter. 

While this story did include sexuality, I tried to set it up so that while it was involved, it wasn't the impetus for what happened between Jayne and River. There's a distinct reason why I didn't set this as part of the romance category, because it isn't really a romance story in the traditional sense. I felt that since there's already a lot of fics out there (including very good ones, I might add) that involve River and Jayne being sexually attracted, I went for something different. Of course there's some sexual attraction between the two, but I didn't want it to be the defining factor; I feel that Jayne wouldn't simply sleep with River just because he thinks she looks good, at least not without some work on both sides. That was why this story focused so much on River's pain and her trying to convince Jayne he really is a decent person, and that he's worthy of doing something like this to help her out.

Or rather, that was the plan. I'm not sure if I pulled it off perfectly. Let me know what you think. Later on I might go for a more "traditional" Rayne pairing. I certainly found _this_ one interesting to write.

Until next story . . . .


End file.
